Month: April 2020

 

It’s so easy to worry.   It’s so easy to be scared.   It’s so easy to live in a state of fear wondering what’s going to happen to my life and the world around me.  I usually reside in Manhattan but have been quarantined in Massachusetts for the last six weeks.   I don’t know when I’ll return home.   Even when restrictions are lifted and stores open, when will it be safe to go back to the epicenter of this nightmare?

I often complain and observe why living in NYC is terrible.   Most of my reasoning is based on the incredible surfeit of stimuli all around.   The noise drives me crazy, the air is filthy, there are way too many people stacked on top of each other paying exorbitant rent that gets them a studio apartment when they could take that same rent money and buy a three bedroom house with a yard.   The smells are often putrid, especially in the summer and the energy is more often than not overwhelming.  However, I miss it.   This revelation has made itself clear and there’s no denying why.

I miss my stuff.  I miss my kitchen where I have full control over my meals.  I miss my bookshelves filled with all the writing that has influenced my thoughts and personality.   I miss walking one block and working out at my gym.  I miss the subway, taking me where I need to go quickly and efficiently, for a small price.  I miss meeting friends for a drink and the laughter that stems from an evening out.  But, what I miss the most, is my alone time in a city that I can be anonymous in.

I know when I do go home that the vibe will be different as it is everywhere.  I cannot get used to seeing everyone in masks.  I hate feeling annoyed and repulsed when someone gets too close fearing that at any second they will sneeze and cause my lungs to be harmed for the rest of my life.   I don’t know how things will look in a month, let alone three.

Sitting in the uncomfortable is now the norm.  Not just for humans but for their animals too.  I feel for all those animals right now internalizing their human’s anxiety and fright.   I rejoice when I see adoptions are up, but, the minute people resume their lives or whatever’s left of them, these animals will once again be left alone for long periods of time.    So much is being said about how needed this pause was; how necessary it is for the planet to have a break.   I hope so.  I really really do.

I usually do not like to read reviews before I see a movie or television show, or even listen to an album.  However, as we all sit home in our new reality (hopefully temporary), I can’t help but notice the amount of discussion and notoriety that are the phenomenon of Tiger King.   Everywhere I look a mention of this series pops up and it’s impossible for me to ignore.

I am horrified by human beings who keep big cats in captivity and exploit them for whatever perverse reasons they feel justified.   As much as I like to be in the know, I will not watch this.   I am disturbed enough already and the idea of sitting through seven episodes of imagery where sentient beings are trapped in cages and put to work is too abominable to fathom.

More tigers are kept by humans then there are free in their natural habitat.   I want to think people are better than this and would be aware of the suffering they cause, but, they aren’t.   As interesting as the true crime element is in this story and how weirdly unique this cast of characters is, I still hate that someone would watch this and not feel horrible that this abuse is ubiquitous, occurring throughout the world.   It’s a culture that I obviously can’t relate to and it hurts me that so many can.

As a soul level animal communicator I base my experience and intuition around the belief that animals choose to be with us.    I communicate with many cats, dogs and horses who convey that concept to me and it makes total sense.   However, it is challenging for me to believe that so many lions and tigers choose to be captured only to have their lives controlled by humans who like the idea of owning an exotic animal; like it gives the human a unique identity that makes them feel important in a mainly homogeneous environment.

It pains me to know of any abuse that exists.  An antidote to this sadness and horror that’s been building is quarantining with my cat Bubby.   She’s a small cat, but she’s the world to me.